


With All My Heart

by theSapphireSky



Series: The Detective and the Pathologist [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Camelot, F/M, John is a sorcerer, Promise, magical au, with a happy happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bewitched by Dark Magic, Molly has been conspiring with the sorceress Irene to kill Sherlock. Can he reach her heart and break the curse in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	With All My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the episode of Merlin "With All My Heart"
> 
> Basically, I'm a sap for Sherlolly and Arthur/Gwen

The night was cold and the wind battered through the trees, whipping the leaves back and forth, casting shadows ominously in the moonlight. The dark night was broken by the glint of light bouncing off the blade of Sherlock’s sword as he swung it viciously through anything that impeded their path. John followed on his heels, his Magic lighting the way and his presence the only reason the King didn’t release the full manner of his fury.

Betrayed. By his wife. The woman he fought for, the woman he _loved_ and trusted above all others. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, brushing aside John’s warnings of Molly’s strange behavior. Only to find his doubts proven true; his wife was conspiring with the sorceress Irene to bring down his kingdom and murder him. The two of them had caught her sneaking out of the castle followed her deep into the Dark Forest.

‘Sherlock,’ John caught him by the arm and they came to a stop. Sherlock clenched his fists,his glove’s seams straining around his sword’s handle, as he barely held onto the anger that so desperately wanted to be unleashed. ‘She is bewitched. Surely you could deduce that! Molly would never, in her right mind, cause you harm. She would rather die herself; you _know_ that!’

Sherlock’s nostrils flared and he took several deep breaths. John was right. Logically. But with Molly, his heart often overruled his head and right now the anguish of watching his wife plan his own demise was overshadowing his logical mind.

‘We must break the curse, as soon as possible, lest her heart be lost forever.’

Sherlock shook himself from his thoughts and nodded, ‘yes, of course. But how? The curse has bound her heart, it is too powerful to break by any simple means.’

‘We will find a way, my lord.’

* * *

John grunted and readjusted his grip on the unconscious Queen.

‘I don’t understand why I can’t just conjure up a floating cot? Why do I have to carry her?’ He complained. Sherlock looked back at him over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

‘It would be foolish to waste precious Magic to ease your burden,’ he snapped. ‘Now hurry on. We’re almost there.’

John rolled his eyes and pushed on, Molly’s head lolling back and her long hair nearly brushing the ground. They had spent the better part of the last two days watching Molly’s movements and researching how to break the curse over her. Finally, they stumbled upon a possible solution. It was a long-shot and most likely wouldn’t succeed.

But Sherlock watched his wife, remembering all they had been through to be together, and vowed to break the curse by any means necessary to restore her to him. Though she had been born poor, the daughter of a simple healer in the village, he’d taken notice of her brilliance. Their romance had become legendary as the young prince turned aside from his royal duties to spend his days wandering the village, catching thieves and offending his subjects left and right. Molly’s shyness had faded within the first few months of their acquaintanceship and they established a rapport, almost a friendship. Slowly, she won over Sherlock’s hidden heart and when they reached adulthood, Sherlock realized that he loved her. But, burdened by his royal duties and advised strongly against marrying a commoner, Sherlock harshly spurned her.

It had been a long road after that, realising his folly and slowly earning back her trust. But it had been worth it in the end. Watching her walk down the red velvet carpet, her hair loose and flowing down her back, unadorned with any precious jewel, her rich red gown setting off the rosiness in her cheeks as she caught his gaze. Her eyes had shimmered with love and adoration and she humbly bowed her head when the priest had placed the crown of gold upon her tresses.

She had struggled with the idea of becoming Queen, but her subjects adored her and she was kind and fair; his perfect right hand. She’d proven herself time and again to be faithful and true.

And it was his turn to do the same for her.

They came to a stop at the edge of the small lake just as Molly began to stir, the sleeping draught wearing off. Sherlock took Molly into his arms and knelt on the rocky shore, cradling her form against his chest. John stepped back, preparing himself for the ordeal to come.

Sherlock cupped his wife’s cheeks just as her eyelids fluttered open. His heart leapt as her eyes met his and the spark of love in their depths gave him hope. But then a furious, almost terrified, fire flashed in her gaze and she immediately struggled against his hold.

‘Release me at once!’ She tried to pry his arms from around her, but he didn’t budge.

Sherlock stood, pulling her with him and keeping her wrists trapped against his chest. ‘You are under a curse, Molly. Dark Magic is meddling with your mind.’

‘Lies!’ Molly sneered. ‘I am of perfectly sound mind.’

‘Lies!’ Sherlock retorted brusquely. ‘My wife, my Queen, would never seek to harm me.’ His gaze softened and he swallowed thickly. ‘Her heart belongs to me, as mine does to her.’

A twisted, evil smile distorted her face. ‘My heart never belonged to you. Your weakness, your vulnerability to _love_ , were the perfect opportunity to bring you down and destroy your kingdom. Cut off the head of the empire and it with fall!’

Sherlock grabbed her upper arms in an iron grasp, fire dancing in his eyes. ‘Enough of this.’ With that, he began pulling her toward the water. Her booted feet slid on the pebbled shore as she resisted.

‘It must be of her own will!’ John warned, though his warning fell on deaf ears.

‘Let me go!’ Molly tried to wrench free, terror making her voice waver as her gaze flicked toward the water.

‘Sherlock!’

The King stopped just shy of the water’s edge at John’s shout and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them, he fixed his gaze on his wife, his Queen, his Molly, remembering her as she was before she’d been bound by this curse. Her loyalty unwavering, her devotion to the Kingdom equalled only by his own, her love for him knowing no bounds. The twisted lies rolling off her tongue came from the curse, not her heart.

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock slowly loosened his grip. Molly glared at him warily, fear and anger warring in her gaze.

‘Remember what you said to me,’ he spoke softly. ‘When I asked for your hand in marriage. When I asked you to be my Queen, my love, my right hand. You told me something.’

Her scowl remained frozen, but there was a flicker of… something… in her eyes.

‘I asked if you would marry me. Molly, what did you say?’ He coaxed gently, stepping back, but never breaking his gaze from hers. The edge of the lake broke over his boots, but he kept walking. He trailed his hand along her arm, his fingers brushing hers when he lost touch, though he kept his arm outstretched in beseechment.

Molly’s eyes clouded over and she leaned forward, nearly stumbling.

 _Fight it, my love!_ Sherlock pleaded with his eyes.

‘Molly,’ he said softly.

She blinked quickly and a look of confusion stole across her face.

The water was up to his knees now and he finally stopped. His heart pounded wildly and a cold dread threatened the little hope he had left. This was the final stand; if she didn’t come to him, he would lose her forever. With every ounce of love and adoration for her, the woman who humbled him and made him want to be a better man, the best he could be, he beseeched her, ‘What did you say?’

Her lips parted and she breathed, ‘With all of my heart.’

Joy surged through Sherlock.

‘And with all _my_ heart,’ he repeated, imbuing all his love for her in those five words.

Dazedly, she stepped toward him. Water lapped at the toes of her boots and the hem of her gown. With each step, she never broke her gaze from his.

‘With all my heart,’ she whispered.

Slowly, the hem of her gown darkening with every step, she drew closer and reached out to take his hand. The moment his hand wrapped around hers, Sherlock could feel the powerful curse beginning to break. The darkness permeating her mind and silencing her heart was dying, crying out in anger and pain. _I’m here, my love_. He guided her into the deeper water, then reluctantly stopping.

She turned to look up at him. The confusion and fear in her eyes nearly broke his resolve.

He lifted her hand to his lips, never looking away. ‘With all my heart.’

Gesturing for her to continue forth, he let her hand slip from his grip and she waded into the center of the shallow lake, the water coming up to her middle. From the shore, John began the incantation, his voice starting as quiet as the wind through the trees but growing in intensity. The words rolled off his tongue with finesse and power, the growing, howling wind around them battering them. A golden light welled up around Molly and encompassed her.

Sherlock turned away, covering his face from the blinding light. Silence fell in the aftermath and when the light faded, he looked up. John had his eyes closed, a line between his brows, which cleared immediately in relief and he opened his eyes, smiling at Sherlock.

It had worked. The curse had been broken!

Sherlock whirled around to see Molly staring back at him, relief and horror on her face.

‘Molly,’ he breathed, wading toward her as quickly as he could. Tears were pouring down her cheeks when he reached her and drew her against him, pressing a loving kiss to the top of her head.

‘Oh, Sherlock,’ she gasped, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘What have I done?’

He leaned back and brushed the tears from her cheeks, cradling her face in the palm of his hand. ‘My Molly, my wife. ‘He leaned his forehead against hers and released a shaky breath. ‘You are so very strong.’

Her lips trembled and she opened her mouth to deny it, but he kissed her, stopping her words before they could be spoken.

Dark Magic had nearly ripped them apart, but her love for him went deeper than even the most powerful Magic could reach. It would take her a while to forgive herself, though she had done nothing wrong. And he would do everything in his power to reassure her that she had lost neither his love nor his trust.


End file.
